


Daughter Of A Jeweler

by SapphireEyes



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Amputation, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Battle of Five Armies Fix-It, Eventual Smut, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Loss of Virginity, Multi, Original Character(s), Slight Plot Divergence, War violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-04-18 05:23:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4693637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphireEyes/pseuds/SapphireEyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'The world is indeed filled with peril, and in it there are many dark places; but still there is much that is fair, and though in all lands love is now mingled with grief, it grows perhaps the greater.' ~J.R.R. Tolkien</p>
<p>After the sacking of Erebor, Rúna wanders the wilderness with her family and the other dwarves in exile. But in the wake of tragedy, there came an adventure she'd never expect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Smoke and Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to my first fan fiction ever! *squeels* I started writing this story as a personal narrative writing exercise and thought it would be fun to share with everyone. Note that this is mostly an *exercise* for now so the posting schedule is currently nonexistent. Please be gentle as I'm a FanFic virgin!
> 
> The world of Middle Earth and popular characters within belong to Professor Tolkien, everything added belongs to me.

 

 

_Fire, smoke and darkness. It surrounded her as far as she could see, burning her eyes, making her cough and wheeze. She stumbled forward, trying to find a way through the flames, but they kept rising and creeping closer, surrounding her. Trapping her._

_'Mother!' she cried out, 'Where are you?' She could only hear the roar of the flames._

_Her eyes scanned her surroundings frantically until she saw a lone figure, their back to her. She knew instantly who it was._

_'Amad!' she screamed over the fire._

_The figure slowly turned. It wasn't her mother. It was a monster, a winged one. Its teeth like swords, claws like spears. Blazing eyes flashed as the beast suddenly dashed to her frozen, fearful form._

**Present**

Rúna woke with a violent start, one hand immediately clutched the air next to her on the bed. She turned to the empty air with wide, fearful eyes that slowly became doleful as her outstretched arm came to rest on the sheets. There was no fire, in fact a slight chill filled her bedroom causing her to clutch her blanket for warmth as well as comfort after the nightmare. The sound of roaring flames replaced with the creaks and groans of wood as the last winds of autumn rushed to meet her rickety loft. She slowly sat up, wiping the sheen of sweat off her brow and struggled to calm herself.

It was a nightmare she had had for decades, but it never ceased to frighten her. The memory of what had happened that day was fresh and sharp in her mind even though it happened over a century ago, and being so close to that damned wyrm didn't help ease her subconscious mind.

However, the pale moonlight from her window reassured that there certainly was no dragon here in her quarters, she was safe in her bed and surrounded by familiar trinkets and furnishings, even though they were much larger than herself. When she had first settled in Esgaroth, days were spent hunting for furniture that matched her own Dwarven stature but all she could find was a child’s bed. Apparently, it never occurred to the race of men that smaller furniture for their young might be useful, so she made do with what she had. She sawed off the leg ends of an old desk to make it fit for crafting and writing, one of the Masters' old footstools served as a rather comfortable chair, an old wheelbarrow was salvaged to make a moving platform which she used to reach her bookcases and wardrobe, and a large wooden chest sat next to her bed serving as a nightstand, as well as a covert place to store her weapons. All this gave her room a chaotic air, but routine and time made it her norm.

While the dwarrowdam calmed down soon enough, she was wide-awake. She looked out her window to find that while the moon was still out, the pale fingers of dawn were just peeking out from the east. An annoyed sigh came from deep within her as she threw off her blankets and quickly grabbed a fur robe draped across the wooden chest, wrapping herself to ward off the cold. If she couldn't fall back asleep, she'd make use of her time and crafting would help ease her mind.

She sat at her desk and opened a flat, wooden box that sat upon it revealing several stacked compartments, each housing something different: beads, various stones or gems, chains of different metals, spools of leather and wire, and at the bottom were several different pliers, varying in sizes with leather wrapped around the handles. She picked out the smallest pair before opening another box and pulling out a partially made ear cuff. Once the candle next to her was lit and a magnifying glass suspended on a brass stand had been placed in front of her, she set to work.

Crafting was one of the few things that brought Rúna any semblance of peace these days. It brought her back to her roots, back to the earth (which she sorely missed, having lived on a lake for nearly 3 years), like the ghost of the more pleasant parts of her past coming back to warm her heart and ease her mind. It brought her back to childhood, family, her mother.

Her mother. Images from the nightmare attempted to bubble up before Rúna determinedly focused back on the cuff.

It was really quite intricate in its design; the line that would cover the shell of the ear resembled a chain made of angular shapes, reminiscent of many dwarven crests and patterns. The women of Laketown preferred smaller, plain cuffs or even cuffs that wound around the ear like a serpent in waves and curls, but this piece was for her eyes only. It had been rattling around in her mind and was begging to be created. She didn't have the materials to make the cuff as beautiful as she would've liked, if she had the silver her mother had used it would have been fit for the ear of any noblewoman. All of her mother’s work was that way, the women of Dale always scrambled to get the first look at her new wares. She made the trek to that grand city of Men every month even though her own husband, Valdi, was a nobleman and provided well for their family.

Looking back, Rúna suspected that her mother went so she could see the way the women delicately handled her work with joy and awe in their eyes, see how they held themselves differently once they tried on her work. Even the lowest peasant women felt like a Queen with one of her necklaces resting on their chest.

Her mother loved her craft almost as much as she loved her family. Rúna remembered every single lesson she had given, she could almost hear her voice coaching her as she carefully twisted each wire.

“Remember, it wants to be beautiful, just show it how to be so.”

Rúna swallowed a rather large lump in her throat. How did that woman manage to make her so happy and miserable at once after all of these years? Idly she wondered what she would have thought of her daughters' fate. Would she be proud of all she had done? Be disappointed at the way she hid herself amongst the world of men? Chide her for the decisions she had made...?

After what happened that day, she'd never know. The dragon had taken so much, changed so much.

The fingers of dawn had reached what many men now called ‘The Lonely Mountain', soon Rúna wouldn't need her candle to work and she began to hum to herself. She wasn't quite aware that she was doing it, as if the focus of her thoughts had to spill out some way, lest it burst out of her.

_Far over the Misty Mountains, cold...To dungeons deep and caverns old..._

 

**Past**

Anyone who could think that dwelling under a mountain would be dark, cold, and dismal had never walked the halls of Mount Erebor. Immense halls of beautiful green malachite, carved in the First Age by Durin’s Folk, reached deep into the earthen depths and up into a Dwarven-made, dark sky. Light shone out of hundreds of homes formed from the rock itself, well-lit staircases led from each of these dwellings, connecting them into communities where dwarves carved, weaved, counted, smithed, and crafted among other things.

The voices of thousands of dwarrow echoed low throughout the vast chambers, creating a melody unlike anything that could be found in Middle Earth. It wasn't a hollow or unnerving sound either but one that would make the listener feel warmth surround them, like the embrace of an old friend.

Dwarf men gathered in the underground taverns drinking ale and making merry, dwarf woman sat chatting amongst themselves while making themselves useful in their chosen trades, and, if you were lucky, you could see one or two young dwarflings run about chasing each other or playing a multitude of different games.

Not far from the Gates of Erebor, three such dwarflings played with wooden swords that were normally used for training soldiers. The real soldiers were elsewhere, in pits on the opposite side of the Military Arena, and had they known about one particular dwarflings' presence, they would've put an immediate stop to the little one's game. A small dwarfling girl was holding one of the wooden swords in both hands, her deep blue eyes alight with both concentration and profound excitement. Her arms visibly shook from holding the sword in such a way, but her legs paced and bounced with eager anticipation. The sight of her weapon and readied battle stance was jarring as she also wore a deep red dress with golden lace trimmings. A pretty little warrior, it would seem.

“Keep holding that sword up, Rún. You're fighting me not the ground.” a dwarf boy directed her. He was visibly older than she was, being almost a foot taller than her. He wore a tunic whose colors matched her dress with dark brown trousers, his blond hair was braided down his back, and thick light stubble grew on his face.

“I'll have to fight the ground soon if you don't attack me sometime this century, Hornin!” she replied, quickly tucking a loose wave of her auburn hair behind her ear.

“Hownin is scawed of Wúna!” the smallest dwarfling giggled from the sidelines, sitting on top of a barrel that once held extra practice swords, as evidenced by a pile of them scattered next to it. He too wore the colors of his older siblings and shared his brother Hornins' blond hair. Wispy sideburns framed his round, happy face and thinned the closer it got to his chin where a prominent patch of hair grew, like a small billy goat beard.

Hornin glanced at the boy, a reproachful look on his face. “Am not, Edvin! Who're you cheering for anyways?”

Edvin seemed to think for a moment before his gaze turned to his sister. He looked back at Hornin, apologetic before chanting, “Wúna! Wúna!”

Hornin let his sword down and huffed, “Come on! I'm already being trained as a soldier! I'M the one teaching her to fight!”

That's the moment when Rúna struck, she ran at him full force bringing the sword over her head. Hornin barely moved his own in time to block her and the two began a very disheveled sort of sparring match. The elder looked familiar enough with the motions of the sword but didn't know quite how to react to the erratic movements of his opponent who had close to no finesse with her own weapon but certainly brought enough force to accidentally maim him.

After a few moments, she left herself open and he whacked the sword from her hand, causing her to wince in pain.

“By the Maker, you'll kill one of us for real if you swing it around like that!” he cried, taking a rather large step away from his sister.

“How else am I going to beat you, you're bigger than me!” she whined, rubbing her right wrist.

“Size has nothing to do with who wins or loses a fight, Rún. It doesn't matter.”

“Well what DOES matter?” she asked.

“I-um-don't know exactly. It's something I always hear Master Frar say to the junior pupils,” he admitted, using his wooden sword to scratch the back of his head.

“'Only the spirit of the fighter matters.' That's what he says.” All three jumped and looked up to see an older dwarf looking down at them from the lip of the pit.

He jumped down with ease, his hand firmly clasping the real sword at his side as he strode towards them. He wore a soldiers armor, only missing his helm so his long, dark blond hair could be seen carefully braided on both sides of his face and down his back. His beard was full, the middle section in a simple braid with his long mustache braided and hanging on either side.

“I-I was just showing them the stances I've been learning! They r-really wanted to see-” a red faced Hornin blurted out before the new dwarf interrupted.

“Save it. I heard the swords when I passed by.” His gaze shifted to the girl, who was shifting her feet and looking anywhere but at the newcomer.

Hornin still persisted, “Look, it was my idea, I thought-”

“What do you think you're doing, training her? She'll get proper lessons in just a few years time,” The older dwarf continued.

Rúna finally looked up at the soldier, “They're not proper, they're a joke! I'll learn only how to defend myself!”

“That's all you'll ever need, Rúna,” he said, sounding exasperated, this was an argument they'd had many times. “Dwarrowdams need protection and your lessons will more than cover what you'll need to know.”

“I won't be needing any protection if I can fight back!” She stomped a foot on the ground, fists tight at her sides.

He rolled his eyes and let out a loud sigh.

“Benrin! You find them?” A loud voice boomed from not too far away.

The older dwarf turned to the voice. “Over here!”

When he faced his younger siblings again, they had suddenly paled. Hornin grabbed one of Benrin's arms and whispered, “Don't tell him, please! Just say they were watching!”

He ripped his arm away, before whispering back “You want me to lie to Father?”

“Please!” Rúna pleaded, now at his side “We'll get into so much trouble.”

“Maybe you all need some discipline after doing something so foolish,” he admonished, glaring down at her.

She didn't reply, but she did continue to stare at him with her big eyes. With her this close, he could see the flecks of hazel around her iris. His gaze softened as he took in her young face, she was pale with rosy cheeks and a button nose. She didn't have a beard yet, but had developed lovely sideburns that were long enough to hold beads.

Heavy footfalls came to the pit, “Aha! Here you all are! What sort of games have you been playing at? This isn't the safest place for that kind of fun, my kin.” A large dwarf peered down at them, wearing the same colors as most of his children. Everything about him was broad; his shoulders, chest, nose, even the smile he gave them. Six thick, blonde cornrows sat on his head while a thick fishtail braid ending with a bronze clasp sat on his chin accompanied on either side by his bushy mustache, both ends holding the same clasps.

The children were all quiet for a moment, the eldest still holding his sister’s gaze. She pulled her full lips into a slight pout, looking absolutely pitiful. Benrin was fully aware of what she was trying to do, but he still couldn't bring himself to refuse that look, it was downright bewitching.

“Hornin here was showing off his new skills,” he said. “Hopefully he didn't bore them too much,” he added, giving Hornin the ghost of a smile. Despite the jab, Hornin smiled back, appreciatively.

Rúna beamed up at her brother, “It wasn't too boring. Better than listening to Benrin talk about watching on the wall,” she added, slyly. He raised an eyebrow, giving her a look that clearly said 'You better watch yourself'.

Their father laughed loud from his belly. The younger siblings all snickered while Benrin crossed his arms and frowned up at Valdi.

“Sorry, my son, but oftentimes it's true.” He chuckled, wiping tears from his eyes. “Now it's nearly time for luncheon and you, my Sapphire-” he smiled at Rúna “-need to be ready for your mother’s return. She has another important lesson for you this afternoon.”

“I know, Adad! I've even got my pack together, just like Amad's!” She ran to pick up a cinch sack lying next to the barrel Edvin sat on. It was stitched together with uneven seams and several different fabrics, but it appeared to be holding its contents with some capability.

“Good thing she's to be a jeweler,” Benrin muttered. She threw him a glare, a scary thing for his younger brothers, maybe, but he himself found it quite amusing.

“She'll love it, mizim. Up you come!” Valdi said before crouching down near the edge of the pit.

After sliding the sack onto her back, she begrudgingly went to her eldest brother who grabbed her and passed her up into her fathers' waiting arms. “Dale will have another famous jeweler on their hands in no time at all! Just imagine the crowd that will gather around you and your mother when they see you've inherited her skill!” He said, holding her against his hip with one arm, giving her an eye-crinkling smile. Valdi was proud of every one of his children, as having any at all was uncommon for their race, but having a daughter was rare and a great gift from Mahal. To have one who showed such promise made him feel like he was the luckiest dwarf in Middle Earth.

As her father stepped away with her from the pit, Hornin climbed out before reaching back to grab Edvin, who was being passed to him by Benrin, who then climbed out of the pit with as little trouble as it had been for him to jump in. Together, the family started towards the halls where they lived.

“When did Amad say she'd be back? Dale has been especially busy this past week; I'd imagine she might be delayed,” Benrin asked, coming to his fathers' side. Hornin in turn, hurried to Benrins' side carrying Edvin.

“Possibly, but I doubt she'll miss luncheon, which she'd love for you to attend, by the way. We don't get to see our King Guardsman as often as we'd like.” Valdi said, giving his eldest a proud smile.

Benrin returned it. “I'll be sure to then. Have you-”

The family stopped as groups of dwarves started running past them, some gasping with terror in their eyes, others shouting nearly incoherently. The only words Rúna could make out were “run!”, “door,” and “dragon!” Other shouts and cries started rising from the Main Gate before Valdi felt a faint rumbling at his feet.

He looked to his eldest, whose face had blanched.

Edvins' small voice wavered as he spoke from Hornins' arms, now clasping him tighter, “Adad, d-did they s-say a d-dwagon was coming?”

Before he could answer, the ground shook as a loud bang echoed from the door to Erebor. Rúna clutched her father around the neck, staring in the direction of the mountain's entrance.

“I must go, father!” Benrin bellowed, drawing his sword and making for the source of the noise.

“Benrin!” Valdi called out, holding Hornin to his side. His eldest turned back to them. “Be careful, my son,” he managed to say, though he suddenly found it harder to breathe.

He nodded to him before giving each of his siblings a look and running to the door. Another resounding bang shook them before a swarm of dwarves ran towards them, getting away from certain danger.

“Come Hornin! Do NOT leave my side!” Valdi yelled. He grabbed his second eldest son’s hand as he too ran from the door, Hornin obeying his command.

The crowds didn't seem to have any idea where they were going to go. A few factions parted down a side corridor or up a set of staircases, anywhere they felt would be safe from a dragons' wrath. Valdi, however, knew exactly where he was going. He had never seen a dragon in the flesh but he had heard enough about their size, fire, and cunning to know that they HAD to get out of the mountain or his children may never get the chance to again. He would go to the secret door, the one Thrain had told him of after their battle with the goblins.

As he mumbled the directions to the secret door to himself (which he had memorized as soon as his old friend had told him), Rúna stared with her mouth agape at the gates, which she could see in the far distance. A small army of soldiers stood ready with weapons to face whatever was trying to break in. They wore the same armor that Benrin had.

CRASH!

The gate was gone and in its place was the largest creature Rúna had ever seen. It plowed through the amassed army with ease, crushing them under its claws, throwing them across the halls with its tail, and then burning them alive with its breath of fire. Suddenly, Valdi made a turn and the dragon was no longer visible. They were running down a narrower corridor before turning and running into yet another and then another. This one had always been forbidden by their father and mother because it was too dangerous for dwarflings, it lead them past one of the mines.

The children looked about the unfamiliar surroundings as best as they could whilst running for their lives. Miners scurried up from their posts far below in the shafts and into the corridor, joining Valdi and his family. More loud crashes were heard before one of the Dragon’s roars ripped through the mountain, causing boulders and debris to fall from the ceiling and down into the shafts and tunnels. Rúna watched in horror as two miners on a platform frantically pulled the ropes to hoist themselves up only to have a boulder crash into them and take out several more as it continued its descent to the depths.

Valdi wondered if this secret door was really all that secret as more and more dwarves fled to the last corridor that he knew would lead them to safety. They made the last turn and he let out a cry of relief as the door was indeed there and open for everyone to escape. They had to squeeze and shove to get through the crowd that amassed there, but they got out, and sunlight and fresh air hit them like a splash of water. The children squinted their eyes at the sudden light, while Valdi stopped to check their surroundings. It looked as though the main goor would be right around the corner, the only other place that dwarves could have escaped, the place where he last saw his son.

He hadn't run this much in a long time, his body was all too good at reminding him, but he had to get to the gate, he had to see Benrin.

But his hope of seeing anything would be slim. As he made it to the front of the mountain, black smoke lingered like a fog covering most of the entrance to Erebor and completely shielding Dale. The only thing he could see was the nearby valley, on which an army of elves had amassed, led by what had to be the Elven King Thranduil astride a ridiculously large elk. But he was leaving. Why was he leaving? Didn't he see what had happened? Didn't they notice how much destruction had been rained down upon them?

The smoke shifted with the wind and Valdi got a better view of the gates, he ran down to them.

There were guardsmen everywhere, Rúna had no idea where to look. Benrin HAS to be somewhere out here, she thought, he couldn't have gotten to the door in time when the dragon crashed through. But he was pretty fast, maybe he was one of the soldiers she saw at the door.

No. He was here. One of these men was her big brother and she would find him.

Her eyes scanned every guard they passed once they got to the entrance: There were two guards holding a dwarf covered in soot from going back into the fray— “I have to go back! He's still in there!”— Another guard carried a dwarf with terrible burns on his face and arms, and yet another guard guided stragglers along with another taller, dark haired dwarf and urged them to stay far away from the mountain. That last guard had dark blond hair.

“BENRIN!” she cried, hopping out of her father’s arms and nearly tackling the taller dwarf as she gave a bear hug to her shocked brother, who saw her just in time to catch her up in his arms where she sobbed, “I th-thought the d-dragon c-crushed you! I-it was ho-horrible! The f-fire...” she buried her face in his shoulder, barely hearing the tall dwarf quietly tell Benrin to get as many people to safety as possible before walking away.

Soon they were joined by her father and brothers. Valdi was beyond relieved to see his son alive, Hornin seemed to be in shock, standing still and silent amongst his family, and Edvin had tears running down his cheeks that wouldn't stop.

“What were the Prince’s orders, son?” Valdi asked his eldest.

“Get everyone to safety,” he replied numbly, clutching his still sobbing sister.

“Alright, we'll help,” Valdi declared, starting to walk into the smoke “Everyone to Dale.”

Benrin stopped dead, a hand grabbing his father's arm. “Adad, Dale is...gone.”

Valdi stared at his son, not comprehending. “Gone? How can it—what do you mean?”

“The dragon came to Dale first. The smoke, it's from his fire, the fire he used to...” he swallowed heavily. Rúna lifted her head to look into her brother’s face; there she saw anger, pain, and then sadness flash through his eyes.

“Most of them have died,” he finished before looking away from the city, hiding his eyes from his family.

The rest turned to Dale, the wind blew the smoke away to reveal complete and utter ruin. Fire roared across the roofs of buildings, structures crumbled into ash. The city, once vibrant with colors, now grey and black with charring. Not even the neighboring farmlands were spared as trees and fields faded away in flames before their eyes. Not a single living thing or person could be seen.

Valdi took a few steps towards Dale, leaving his children behind, and took in the horrifying destruction in front of him. “Esta” he whispered. He stood still for a minute more, then turned back to his family and marched like he'd join them. Instead he brushed past. He approached a group of dwarves with singed beards that had gathered a few feet behind them. Like a man possessed, he began asking every single one of them if they had seen a dwarrowdam with auburn hair and hazel eyes come from Dale. And so he continued with every dwarf that had made it out of the mountain, his children trailing slowly behind. None of them had seen her.

She wasn't sure how she knew it at the time, but in that moment as she took in the devastation before her, Rúna just knew. Esta, wife of Valdi, her mother had not survived the siege of Erebor. Her Amad burned along with the rest of the city.

 

 

 

Dwarven Dictionary:

Adad=Father  
Amad=Mother  
Mizim=Jewel (Used as a term of endearment in this case)


	2. Of Kith and Kin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this will be a bit of a fluff chapter. Don't worry the next installment will be far more interesting and Thorin will be showing up within the next few chapters!
> 
> (Edited 12/08/15: Noticed a couple minor mistakes but also decided to switch some things around in the name of Character Development. Everything to do with the plot has stayed the same.)
> 
> The world of Middle Earth and popular characters within belong to Professor Tolkien, everything added belongs to me.

_How the dwarflings of the Grey Mountains found this activity fun and exhilarating, Rúna would never understand. With trembling arms, she reached out to the nearest notch in the cliff face, lifting herself slightly higher and closer to her brothers above._

_She was over twenty feet above the forest floor, and though a net was in place above the treeline, her newfound fear of heights was far from being appeased._

“ _Don't be frightened, Rúna. You're more than halfway there!” Hornin shouted from above, failing to hide the look of worry on his face. He had just come of age and sported a full, braided beard that stopped right in the middle of his chest. Edvin was next to him, on his knees looking down at her, eyebrows knit together in concern. His own beard was becoming evident despite him being so young, the wisps had become darker and fuller while the billy goat beard on his chin had grown at least three inches longer._

_As she contemplated her next move, she wondered where their friend Bódon had gone to. He'd been the one to suggest they do this in the first place! Knowing the scatter-brained dwarfling, he probably got bored or distracted and found something else to preoccupy his time._

“ _I don't see another notch! There isn't one!” She shouted up at them._

“ _There has to be! How else would me and Ed have gotten up here?” Hornin called down._

_Her heartbeat got faster as she frantically scanned the rock for a hold of any kind. She could always just let herself fall down into the net and get to the top by taking the stone staircase, but she dreaded how it would feel to fall such a ways down. Plus she wouldn't give Bódon an opportunity to poke fun at her for not completing a task that came so easily for the other children of the Grey Mountains. She'd said she would climb, so she had to climb._

“ _Just give me a moment, I'll be-” The rest of the words died in her throat._

_The cliff face was now smooth as glass except for where she held on for dear life. Against her better judgment she looked down to find that there was no net, only endless darkness. Her head snapped back up to where her brothers peered at her, not aware of her doom._

“ _You can make it Rúna!” Edvin called, his round face starting to thin before her eyes, his bright eyes rapidly began to grey and turn to a milky white._

“ _Just a bit closer!” Hornin said as a dark cloud formed above them all. She tried to scream when she saw the tall shadows creep up behind her older brother, but couldn't make a sound._

 

 

**T.A. 2799**

The wagon lurched as one of its wheels caught a hole in the road, jolting Rúna from her nightmare. She made to sit up, but winced at the action. Sleeping amongst piles of hay was not as comfortable as one would think, an ache had started between her shoulder blades that reached to the back of her head.

She arched her back and pushed out her stomach hearing multiple pops along the length of her spine. Then she put a hand to the top of her head and pulled it to the side, hearing several louder pops that brought great relief to her aches. She stayed like that for a moment longer, relishing the loss of pain and fixing her eyes on the wooden floor in an attempt to rid herself of the sights she'd seen in her sleep.

Judging by the fading light coming through the cracks of her wagon, evening was drawing near. They'd be just past the Old Ford by now, if they still followed the Great River. It would surprise her if they didn't, seeing as goblins could start showing up if they wandered too far from the water and strayed towards the mountains on their other side.

While still groggy from sleep, Rúna was alert enough to notice the feeling of straw in her hair. It seemed that she had tossed and turned enough to put her braids in complete disarray. She reached into a nearby hay pile and pulled out a patchwork cinch bag that had miraculously survived for nearly 30 years since she first made it. She pulled out a bronze hand mirror the size of her face from the bag and held it in front of her to survey the damage. The braids she had put in days ago were so loose they threatened to come undone and pieces of hay jutted out at every angle, like a poor excuse for a crown. No, this wouldn't do at all.

After picking out every piece of hay, she used a brush to tame the wavy, dark auburn locks. Her hair had grown very long over the years, barely reaching the small of her back and though it often became tangled, she'd never trade anything for the thick, healthy tresses. Hair like hers was envied by dwarves both male and female as it was associated with their maker, Aulë (commonly referred to as Mahal), who made the Dwarrow race. Any kind of hair was important to dwarrow and was instrumental in many aspects of their culture.

As such, Rúna dutifully set to braiding the hair to how it had been before. She'd make a rope braid before wrapping it into a bun on the back of her head, leaving two strands on either side of her face to braid in a simpler fashion so she could display her beads. Before she began brushing, she took out the three said beads and placed them in a small tin box so there was no chance of losing them. Each one was made out of obsidian, crafted into different sizes and shapes, and etched with different runes.

She took one out of the box and wove it into the thin braid on the right side of her face. It was the shape of an oval, the shape that symbolized motherhood for mourning beads, in remembrance of the woman she missed so dearly since the fall of Erebor.

Next was a smaller, pipe shaped bead. The shape that symbolized a younger sibling. The small dwarfling had been so adept at whatever he set his mind to that it would've been impossible to guess what craft he would have taken up. But she'd never know now, he was gone from her before even coming of age.

The last bead held the same shape of Edvin’s but was bigger. Much to everyone's surprise, Hornin ended up becoming quite an efficient hunter and leather worker, not a soldier. He provided well for the family and his work was highly sought after wherever they went, but there were risks that came with becoming popular in the cities of men. He ended up paying the ultimate price for his talent.

With the final bead in, she surveyed her work in the mirror and nodded to herself, satisfied, before pinning the braid back right behind her ear. Over the years, she'd grown a fine enough beard for a dwarrowdam, the thick sideburns she'd had since her youth now made way into a strong line of auburn that traveled down her jawline and settled on her chin. It wasn't close to being long enough to decorate with more trinkets or beads but given her current circumstance that may have been for the best.

She put the mirror away in her bag and slung it over her shoulder as she felt the wagon come to a halt. Next came a clattering noise.

_ That'd be Grínn laying aside the reins, _ she thought.

Some scraping and clinking.

_And he can't forget his mug and pipe now, can he?_

Then a groan along with the creaking of wood, followed shortly by a few thuds before a yelp and a series of loud booms and thumps.

_Honestly, that dwarf was made to travel in every way except walking._

She smiled as she heard hands hastily dust off clothing, it was impossible not to imagine the gangly dwarf glancing about for witnesses to his fall, all the while his face turning a brilliant shade of red.

He coughed before greeting someone in his high-pitched voice (higher than usual for a dwarf, anyway). “Hullo there, boys! Let me give you a hand with the door.”

That was her cue. Pack still on her back, she pulled the hood of her dark cloak over her head, climbed to the the highest pile of hay and pulled a latch on the ceiling of the wagon. It was a door, which she quickly made use of by hoisting herself up and onto the roof, making little noise.

“No thanks, Grínn, we'll get it. Don't want to go bruisin' that lovely nose o' yours again.” Another dwarf chuckled. 

She pulled the secret door closed right as she heard the wagons' side-door slide open, the noise of falling flat onto her back went unnoticed with the loud click the door made once opened all the way. The dwarrow went about their business gathering hay for the ponies, which meant they hadn't noticed her ascent. As long as she kept still and quiet above them it would stay that way. The guards amongst this caravan were thankfully too lazy, or possibly dim to check the tops of any wagons for enemies or, in Rúna's case, stowaways. In a couple hours time Grínn would bring her food for supper and then she'd sneak off to practice sparring.

There wasn't much to do in the meantime except stare up at the stars that were beginning to come out above her, she could even make out the moon as twilight reigned over the heavens. The sky was not something most dwarves took notice of or saw any beauty in. They were a race captivated by the beauty that came from within the earth, the gleam of gems or the veins of precious metals weaved amongst the rocks laying deep within caverns. But Rúna had come to see a beauty her kind had not. Stars were like tiny diamonds studded across a unending slab of onyx, the moon a close comparison to how she imagined the famed Arkenstone would look. Her father was the only dwarf she knew who had seen the stone, he had told her of its brilliance with awe in his voice that she had never heard again.

Before she knew it, the smells of campfire and food filled her nose and sometime later a familiar whistling came closer to her hiding spot. The whistling lingered by the ponies, allowed to graze nearby, before passing by her wagon, seemingly without incident, but Rúna knew better. She flipped onto her stomach and pulled herself closer to the head of the coach and looked down to the riders' bench. Hanging on a loose nail above the bench was an unassuming sack, which Rúna snatched up before going back to her hiding place. In the sack she found a full water skin, a large chunk of bread, block of cheese, and a few sausages. She smiled wide before ripping into the food like a ravenous animal, it wasn't until she was nearly finished that she noticed a small parcel at the bottom of the bag. Opening it revealed a handful of dried cherries, her favorite fruit.

_ Mahal bless good old Grínn! _ She thought with glee as she popped one in her mouth, savoring the sweet yet tart flavor.

Once the glowing moon rose high in the sky, the stowaway peeked over the side of her wagon to see most of the dwarves asleep in their bedrolls. There were guards pacing around the caravan, but they left large gaps in their wake and the dwarves guarding the inner circle had become bored, talking with each other or starting to fall asleep themselves.

After watching one of the patrols pass by, Rúna replaced the sack back on the nail and carefully jumped down onto the wagon bench. She reached under it to grab something rather long and wrapped in a musty blanket before darting into the woods nearby. Thank Mahal, she opted for trousers rather than skirts for the journey! Further and further in she went, stripping large pieces of bark off trees as she walked, she'd need a way to get back to camp after all. After a couple minutes of walking, she found a small clearing suited for her purpose.

She bent down to unwrap her package, revealing a cutlass. It was made by dwarves, that much would be obvious to any being living in Arda. The hilt was forged with the blade, as it was simply a hole large enough for a hand to grip the weapon. The blade kept its shape right until it reached the tip where it curved like a Warg's claw, the other side of the tip was accented with a harsh triangular point that glinted menacingly in the moonlight. Her right hand wrapped familiarly around the leather covered hilt before giving it a few swings. Then she assumed the stance she'd taken since childhood, only now her frame could support the weapon in her hands. She was solid and unmoving like the rock Mahal had made her from, the cutlass she'd named 'Carver' held firmly upright in her hand. Then she was off, thrusting and parrying towards invisible enemies that dared face her in these abandoned woods.

While she was a Jeweler by trade, her brothers had given her a second craft that no one, especially their father, could ever discover: Warrior. It certainly wasn't a natural talent, it was a skill she developed herself with hundreds of hours of practice that started during what many Ereborian dwarves called 'The Wandering', the time after Smaug's descent and before their settling of the Blue Mountains. Her training came about when their father and eldest brother went to work for food and provisions for the family. Hornin found that teaching Rúna how to fight was a superb distraction from their boredom, hunger and sorrow. He had taught both Rúna and Edvin how to fight with many different weapons before they settled for a time in the Grey Mountains, shortly after Edvin became ill. When Hornin began to learn leather working, Benrin took up the reins and gave Rúna brutal but effective sword training. All of these lessons were given in secret, Valdi had become more protective of his children than ever after the loss of his wife and Rúna was most often subject to his hovering. As far as he knew, his only daughter was busy keeping the legacy of her mother alive by making bracelets and necklaces to sell at markets as they traveled. In fact, he was convinced that she was back in the Grey Mountains, making busy with her craft but anxiously awaiting any word from them. If he were to know the truth, the reaction would be nothing short of explosive, she was sure.

“Good form,” a familiar voice said from the treeline. 

Rúna spun around, Carver aimed at the intruder. Benrin stared at her with a pronounced frown on his face, arms folded across his chest.

“How-how did you-?” She sputtered.

“I noticed Grínn nicking extra food two nights ago, thought it was for himself until I saw your shadow creep about.” He started walking towards her, bringing his signature simmering anger with him. 

She hated to think of how poor Grínn would've reacted to her big brother's intimidating presence. “Nadad, please don't bring Grínn into this! It was my idea to stow away in the cart; I had to plead on my knees for him to let me come along!”

“Oh, I believe you.” He replied with a cold voice, “Leave it to my dear sister to concoct such a foolish and dangerous scheme!”

He was right in front of her now, seeming to tower over her despite just being a few inches taller. His appearance had become far more rugged since he'd been one of King Thror's soldiers. Ages ago, he had traded his pristine armor for leather and furs, traded boots made from the finest iron with worn shoes now wrapped with pelts and cords. All that remained of his 'glory days' was the longsword at his side, which he had never failed to keep maintained.

“Have you told father?” She asked, trying to keep her voice even.

“Not yet.” And with that he turned back for camp.

“You're giving me up? Just like that?!” she demanded, now at his heel.

“You're not setting foot on that battlefield, Rúna. No matter what false sense of duty or honor you've got stuck in your head this time.”

“He'll send me back to the Greys! He might be angry enough to send me back walking!” She stood before him, blocking his path.

“That's where you should be!” he said, nose only an inch from hers. 

“Oh yes, at 'home', either crafting yet another dismal piece for the Lady of the Greys or pacing the halls, worrying and biting my nails to the quick wondering if you and father have made it through another day in the wilds!” she spat.

Benrin breathed out his nose, clenching his jaw. “Father and I have a duty to our king. He's called for help from those who once guarded Erebor's halls; Father received a letter of summons from Prince Thráin himself. You, namad, have no obligation or reason to come.”

He pushed her out of his way and continued down the path, causing her to huff out in a rage.

“I'm as good a fighter as any of the other dwarves in that camp, maybe even one of the best,” she caught up to his stride “You know it! You're the one who trained me, for pity's sake!”

“You sound like a dwarfling, giving excuses to keep from going to bed!” 

“Only because you and father can't seem to grasp that I'm a grown Dam!” she yelled.

“You're going back,” he said simply. 

Rúna stopped following, her mind raced to come up with something to keep him from going to Father. There was one way; in fact it may have been the only way.

“I'll tell him about Bódon!” she called out.

Benrin stopped in his tracks as though he had hit a wall. A few tense moments passed before he asked in a much softer tone, “What?”

He was still looking ahead at the path but hadn't moved. Rúna could feel the guilt, like a wave, crashing over her body.

“I'll tell Father of you and Bódon, of what happened last spring.”

There had been a tournament held in the Grey Mountains, she with Valdi and Benrin had come back to take up temporary residence and were just in time to join in the games and revelries. She hadn't been allowed to partake in any of the fighting, of course, and settled for showing some of her more elaborate pieces amongst other crafters. After having to endure the company of so many chattering dams, she excused herself to find somewhere secluded to read a book. In her search, she stumbled upon a lone corridor where she saw two figures embracing and kissing each other in the shadows. Under normal circumstances she would have fled, but the longsword of the taller dwarf was impossible for her to mistake, she'd sparred with it too many times to count.

Benrin turned to her and may have been trying to keep his face neutral, but the shock was plain for his sister to see. “You knew?”

Her response was a hard stare. Instead of continuing down the path, he began to pace its width all while running a hand through his beard, a sign that he was shaken or trying to think. Both were true in that moment.

“Why didn't you say anything?” he asked the ground at which he now stared.

“You know why,” she replied. That type of relationship between two male dwarves was not unheard of and seeing as dwarrowdams were uncommon, such a coupling made sense. But it was met with different reactions across the dwarrow kingdoms. Some paid it no mind and would let the dwarves carry on with their lives, while others thought it was a distraction and waste of time. When a dwarf is not meant to marry then they must focus on their craft instead, why have such a relationship when a child would not be born from it? It was even worse if they were dwarves who shared a craft. Rúna had heard of two miners having to work separate shafts away from each other, of smiths setting up two different shops because they were forbidden from working under the same roof. The dwarves of the Grey Mountains enforced such regulations, many of which were back at the camp.

“You'd give me up to Father so you can fight alongside us,” he began, slowly, “so you have the same chance for glory...and for death.”

“So I can have you close by. Know you are safe and protect you if I must!” 

“Protect me?” he snarled. She didn't miss how ironic her words sounded after the threat she had issued moments earlier. “No. You'd shame me and Bódon, so you won't sit bored and listless in the safety of a mountain.” 

“I don't care about my safety; I care about the safety of the rest of my family!” she snarled back. 

They looked at each other for a moment in tense silence. Rúna had a leg up on him. Even if she did get sent back to the Greys then either himself or Bódon would be sent back as well, for two soldiers involved with each other couldn't fight side by side in battle. In the others' eyes, the distraction either of them could face would surely be a problem on the battlefield. Even then they'd lose the respect and camaraderie of their peers for the duration of the battle and the travels to and from.

His face set into a resigned scowl, “Fine. Come with us.”

She winced at how cold he sounded, at the betrayed look on his face.

He turned away from her and mumbled, “Don't sleep in that wagon again or you'll get caught by another guard soon enough. I'd suggest seeing if Grínn has some male clothes to spare.”

“I've already got some.” she said softly.

He gave her a sharp, sidelong look.

“I had a disguise ready for when we got to the King's Camp,” she continued, not able to meet his eyes, “Less chance of being found out by you or Adad in a sea of dwarrow than in our caravan.”

“Ever prepared,” he said, sarcastic, and marched back to camp. Rúna stood motionless, watching his back disappear down the path, Carver hung loosely in her hand at her side. A moment passed until she swallowed hard and followed suit. 

When she walked through the line of trees, back into camp, she saw Benrin speaking in a low voice to Grínn who seemed to be listening intently despite trembling from head to foot. The scrawny dwarfs eyes flickered past the imposing dwarf before him and onto Rúna as she approached the pair. Benrin gave her the briefest of glances over his shoulder before turning back to Grínn and ordering in a gruff voice, “See that it's done.”

Benrin had just gone out of sight behind the wagon when Grínn grabbed Rúna by the wrist and lead her in the same direction, into the eyesight of everyone in camp.

“What're you-!?” she hissed before Grínn put a hand over her mouth to shush her. A brief glimpse of several languid dwarves sitting at a campfire several feet away was all it took for Rúna to stay quiet. They went to the sliding door at the side of the wagon, Grínn kept Rúna hidden from sight between his own frame and the door when he wrenched it open and promptly grabbed her at the waist (“Sorry about this!” he whispered) before tossing her in. She winced as her knee and elbow made contact with an exposed part of the floor, rolling further into the wagon to rub the pain away with her hands. 

“Grínn?” a voice inquired, one of the dwarves sitting at the fire she presumed. 

“Oh! Thought I heard something scurry around in here. Just checking.” he explained before climbing in after her and closing the massive door behind them. 

“That wasn't at all necessary!” she whined, nursing her joints with a scowl. 

“The guard was coming around at any moment. I had to act fast.” he whispered back as he opened the trap door at the top of the wagon, letting in a shaft of moonlight. “Now let's get you changed.” 

“What?” she squeaked. 

“Benrin's orders.”

He sat before her taking a pack off his back she hadn't noticed and pulled out several items of clothing that were all too familiar to her. A midnight blue tunic that was baggy but hid her womanly form well, dirt colored trousers, deerskin boots, and a long cloak the color of deep brown.

This was to be her disguise, she now had to pretend to be a male all the way to Azanulbizar. She had pretended to be a male before, all dwarrowdams did whenever they travelled on the road to stay hidden and safe from outsiders, but now second thoughts began to nag at her. Fooling a human was one thing, but would she be able to fool her own kind? She sorted through what she had to work with when Grínn pulled out a wide strip of muslin and examined it with a confused expression.

“That's for-well-you know.” she oh-so-thoroughly explained.

He looked from her to the cloth and back, blinking.

“For my female...features.” she went on, gesturing to her chest.

His eyes grew to the size of saucers. “Oh, right.” he said, before he all but threw the cloth at her.

Before she could say a word, Grínn turned with his back to her, fixing his eyes on a knot in a wooden board of the wagon. Wanting to get it all over with, she stripped herself as quickly and quietly as possible, struggling with the ties of the bodice she'd been wearing for weeks. Once bare she took the long strip of muslin and positioned it over her ample chest, then reached awkwardly behind to wrap it around herself.

The silence between them was thick and once her binding was finished, she felt the need to speak, “I'm sorry, Grínn.”

“Not to worry, I've been in stranger positions. Did I ever tell you about the time I came upon dwarf nomad with a pig in his-”

“No,” she interrupted again, “I meant I'm sorry to have put you through all of this. I've been nothing but a nuisance the entire trip, I doubt that will change once we reach the King's Camp.” 

“I wouldn't say you're a nuisance,” he began, “Would've been awful lonesome without a friend to look out for on the road. Besides, you've got as good a reason as any to come along with us soldiers.”

“Yeah, you're right. Adad and Benrin get their heads so far up their own arses sometimes, they'll be needing me to dig them out." she giggled. If it sounded a bit forced, Grínn didn't mention it. 

“Aye. Looking out for your kin is an awful good reason, in my book.” he assured. 

She considered his words for a moment before putting on the rest of the wear. Not a day passed when she didn't worry over her father and brother and think of the ways in which she could shadow them once they reached the gates of Moria. But it was also true that she was beyond relieved to no longer be stuck in the Grey Mountains and that she'd felt the thrill and excitement of traveling through the wilds ever since she got on the wagon.

“I'm decent now, you can look.” she announced. 

Grínn turned around again, taking in her appearance with a critical eye.

“You'll need to change the hair, for sure.” he advised.

“I figured as much,” she straightened up from tying her boots. “Any suggestions?”

He thought for a moment, one hand on his hip while the other stroked his bushy, mouse brown beard.

“Nothing too intricate or flashy, we don't want to remind them of dams or have you stick out like a sore thumb.” he started, “Would be easier if you had a decent beard...”

Her eyebrows flew into her hairline, he caught the expression and sputtered.

“Oh Mahal, I didn't mean it that way! Your beard is perfectly fine I just meant that-”

“-I know, I know!” she soothed, putting out her hands as if to stop the torrent of words about to spill from her friends' mouth, “No need to worry, my friend.”

She rubbed her own facial hair and chuckled, without much mirth, “Would've made this whole thing easier if I had whiskers that hung low enough to hide my chest.”

He chuckled in agreement when a thought struck him. He tilted his body to the side, eying her long tresses.

“I may have an idea.”

 

 

Several days passed and so far the disguise was working. The Valar must have been by her side because Rúna came out in public with her disguise about the same time a dozen or so dwarves from the outskirts of Ered Luin had joined their caravan. Everyone believed that she had simply travelled with them to join her 'distant cousin', Grínn, into battle. She had to commend him for how well he had lied to their traveling companions, it was unlike him to be so smooth with any conversation.

She also had him to thank for the brilliant idea to use the thick layers of hair at the back of Runa's head to make a braid that went past her ears, down her jaw and hung off of her chin. He made the braids tight so they wouldn't move and wove her sideburns into them to hold in place, then finished the look by using a small hair clip to keep the braids together at her chin. She hid the beginning of her 'beard' by having two big, relaxed fishtail braids covering both of her ears while the rest of her hair hung loose at her back. But she still had to be careful. She was already fidgeting with her new clothes and had to remember to keep her hands from fiddling with her new 'beard'.

Tonight it was her turn to fork the hay from the wagon into a large wheelbarrow to bring to the other ponies while Grínn fed their own, it was back breaking work but Rúna wouldn't complain. It was preferable to being cooped up in a wagon all day for sure. When they were finished, the pair made their rounds to each wagon that completed the circle they made in the middle of the vast plains. Earlier that morning, the caravan had emerged from the wooded road and spent half the day trekking across sparse, rolling hills. Rúna felt uneasy like most of dwarves at this, knowing that they'd probably have to set up camp out in the open. Yes, they would be able to see potential threats far sooner but being in an open space made them far more vulnerable. She wondered if it was an attribute of her race to want to have shelter surrounding her as much as possible.

But then she caught sight of the sky above and forgot her worries. Once again, the beauty of the stars captivated her and she tried to find all the shapes in them. She had heard of different constellations but it wasn't an area of knowledge her kind placed much interest in seeing as they lived beneath the ground where the sky wasn't visible.

Maybe a dwarf at the King's Camp would know more than what she had studied in the Grey Mountains' library. It would be interesting to see if any of the shapes she had seen were in-

“ARNI!” Grínn's voice called out, snapping her out of her thoughts. 'Arni' was the pseudonym they agreed on using instead of her real name, a pseudonym she was having trouble getting used to. Her head swiveled over her shoulder to see Grínn several feet behind her with a ball of hay in his fist.

“Thought my ponies were in more dire need of hay, laddie?” A dwarf chortled, as he leaned against the wagon before her. She let out a nervous laugh that changed to a lower pitch halfway as she backed up to Grínn's side. 

“Sorry about that.” she mumbled under her breath at him, “Must have-OW!”

He had swatted her with a fair amount of force on the back of the head. “Pay attention, ya lout!” he snapped, louder than necessary. She heard other low chuckles from nearby dwarves as one of her hands went to the back of her head. She contemplated using her other hand for payback.

“Sorry!” he apologized under his breath. “I needed to keep up appearances.”

“Have I done something to upset you, Grínn? Be honest now.” she grumbled, setting the wheelbarrow down. 

“What? No. We male dwarves can be very physical with each other, no matter the occasion. You should hit me back from time to time! That'll really convince them.” 

“Oh, I'll be sure to.” she promised darkly, passing him more hay.

He took it from her hand and opened his mouth before shutting it and turning away from Rúna. She arched an eyebrow at his back.

“Was there something else, Grínn?”

His shoulders slumped with a sigh before he spun around again to face her, “I think we should join a fire tonight.” he gushed.

Rúna's face fell at that. The two of them had been eating all of their meals alone since she came out of hiding, by her insistence.

“I told you before, Grínn-”

“Yeah and I've told you before that you'll just draw more attention to yourself if you stay away. By blending in you, well, blend in. You were taught how to act male like all the other dams, right?”

“Yes, but that was acting around the race of men. What of our own race? They'd be able to tell the difference after a few minutes, if not seconds.”

He motioned for her to follow him to the next wagon, then muttered in her ear, “Well, I think we should at least try during dinner tonight.”

She stared back at him with an expression that didn't exude confidence.

“I'll do all the talking if I must.” He added. That made the side of her mouth quirk up, “With your big mouth I'll be found out for sure.”

“Just one time.” he insisted.

She peered to where the other dwarves were preparing bonfires. Even now she could smell the food being prepared, stew again. Deep down she knew that she'd need to approach other dwarves sooner or later, it was never like a dwarf to keep away from their own race. They stayed together for better or worse.

“Fine.” she whispered just loud enough for him to hear. 

 

As she suspected, stew was indeed being served again that night. Dwarves passed her with bowls of it on their way to sit at one of the many bonfires. Rúna and Grínn stood in line waiting for their share of food and, much to her surprise, she began to relax more and more. None of the dwarves paid her much attention aside from the occasional greeting and Grínn chatted with her about one trivial thing or another to keep her mind occupied. All in all, she began to feel more confident being able to keep her secret.

In her calmer state of mind, she began dwarrow-watching. She quickly found different ways to tell from where any given dwarf had hailed from and entertained herself creating stories about each and every one of them in her head. Before long Grínn tugged on her sleeve and she realized it was her turn for stew. An ancient looking dwarf with a thinning white beard ladled the stew in her bowl and grunted for her to move along without looking up.

Now, where to sit. Her eyes scanned every fire as though outward appearance alone would determine who wouldn't be able to catch on to her being female, when they fixed on a rather small group not too far away.

Three dwarves sat alone by a bonfire, looking merry as could be. The first was quite rotund with red hair and a thick braid hung down to his belly in a 'U' shape, he appeared to be fiddling with a cast iron skillet by the fire. The second was a dwarf with a long black beard and hair, the hair was neatly braided away from his face and down his back while his beard was combed neatly with two braids laying atop. The last dwarf had a grin so large that Rúna suspected she'd be able to see it from miles away. He had a shorter beard but sported a drooping mustache and braids on either side of his head, on which sat a rather strange looking hat.

It wasn't so much their appearance that drew them to her but what the last two dwarves were doing. The hatted dwarf was laughing as the black haired dwarf played with a small wooden horse on a block of wood, but every time he pushed the side of the block the horse collapsed, when he let go the horse stood back up again.

Curious to see how such a toy worked, she stepped towards their fire to introduce herself.  _ My name is Arni, I came from outskirts of the Grey Mountains. My name is Arni, I came- _

Rúna smacked into a solid wall of dwarf, the contents of her full bowl splattering across said wall's beard and chest. She didn't have to look up at the dwarf's reddening face scowling down at her to know how furious he was, she could tell just fine by the low growl he emitted through clenched teeth.

His beady eyes were nearly black as they pierced down at her underneath thick brown eyebrows that pointed up at the outer ends. He bent over to get in her face as he had no neck to crane.

“Look what ye've done, ye son of an orc!” the dwarf bellowed. Rena looked up into the face of what must have been the broadest dwarf of the caravan. He was covered in muscle and bison pelts with a graying brown beard that fanned out across his chest, made more brown and less gray now with her stew dripping from it. 

“My apologies, Master Dwarf!” she squeaked. As low as she could, mind you.

“What good 'er apologies when I'm in this state!” he raged, “I ought to wring yer scrawny neck from yer shoulders!”

The thought to run for her life and all the way back to the Grey Mountains crossed her mind before a cheery voice piped up, “Now that would hardly be constructive, Yürd.”

The dwarf with the silly hat had appeared at the side of this 'Yürd' with an expression of amusement Rúna felt quite inappropriate for her current predicament. The monumental dwarf had to physically turn to the hatted dwarf to get a look at him.

“Why don't ya mind yer own business?” he hollered in his face, not phasing the hatted dwarf in the slightest.

“Why I'm just looking out for yeh, my friend.” he explained to Yürd, putting a hand on his shoulder. If Yürd's expression to this gesture was any indication of their relationship, Rúna wouldn't bet they had anything like a friendship. “We all know how yeh are when you get hungry.”

Yürd was thunderous, “What 'er ya implyin'?”

“That you need to eat something.” the dwarf that had been playing with the toy showed up at Yürd's other side. Yürd once again had to turn to face the newcomer.

“I already ate!”

“Ah, but is the food Uno cooks really enough to satisfy warriors like yourself?” the newest dwarf asked, gesturing back to the dwarf that had ladled Rúna's stew. 

Before Yürd could answer the hatted dwarf responded, “Of course it's not! Not for the 'Mighty Yürd'!”

“You need sustenance!”

“Fuel fer muscles!”

“But alas we can't have a grand feast every night in Yürd's honor out here in the wilds.”

“Not practical or safe, that is.”

“No matter how much we want it.”

The two bantered back and forth with such ease Rúna would've sworn they had rehearsed the whole thing this morning. Every time one of the dwarrow spoke, Yürd moved his bulky frame to face them, the speed in which they conversed meant that he was in constant motion. Rúna would have laughed at the sight had she not been in danger of getting clobbered.

She stood rooted to the spot with her empty bowl clenched in her hands somehow believing that as long as she kept still she wouldn't attract Yürd's attention. She peeked over her shoulder to see Grínn a couple steps behind her, his mouth in a small 'o' shape as he watched everything unfold.

“What you need is a treat!” the black haired dwarf decided. 

“Aye, one that'll fill up yeh stomach an' taste better than anythin' yeh've had on the road!”

“Perfect for your excellent taste!” he flattered while the hatted dwarf gestured to the rotund dwarf still sitting at the fire to give him something. 

Said dwarf frowned at the hatted one and glanced from something sitting in his skillet and back.

Yürd was about to turn back to the hatted dwarf but the other stopped him with, “A food unlike anything you'll ever eat again in your life, I assure you!”

The hatted dwarf gestured again, more wildly. At long last, the rotund dwarf pouted before grabbing something red from the skillet and tossing it to his hatted friend.

“My brother's famous 'Bonfire Apples'!” the hatted dwarf presented said apple with flourish.

Yürd looked down at it with severe disappointment. “But it's just an- OOMPH!”

“Taste and see for yourself!” the black haired dwarf assured as the hatted one stuffed the apple into Yürd's mouth. For a moment it looked like Yürd would give these two dwarves the fate he had already decided for Rúna, until the frown slid off of his face. 

His whole frame relaxed and a faint smile appeared on his features. When a satisfied moan fell from his lips, Rúna dared to wonder if she was no longer in danger.

“What did I tell yeh? Scrumptious innit?” the hatted dwarf grinned, patting Yürd on the back. 

Yürd savored what must have been an exquisite morsel before swallowing it all down, “Better than expected.” he admitted.

“Right, now why don't you get yourself cleaned up and refreshed in the dressing tent?” the black haired dwarf suggested.

As though a spell had been lifted from him, Yürd looked thoughtful before nodding his head in compliance. “Yer right. I'll head over there now.” Off went Rúna's would-be murderer to a small tent at the far end of the camp, humming a simple tune all the while.

Rúna stared after the broad dwarf with her mouth hanging open. A few other dwarrow had noticed the altercation and looked just as impressed as she did, she also took note that Benrin was glowering at Yürd from a few feet away, his hand grasping the hilt of his longsword with white knuckles.

One of her saviors chuckled behind her and she spun around to face them in awe.

“What just happened?” she inquired. 

“We saved you from one of Yürd's rampages.” the black haired dwarf replied, “He gets into quite a mood when hungry, even worse if the food has begun to bore him.”

“Aye, he's almost as bad as you, Bombur.” the hatted dwarf jested at the dwarf still seated at the fire. 

“Yeh owe me an apple.” the rotund dwarf, Bombur, grumbled in response. 

“Everything alright over here, lads?” came a booming voice behind Rúna and she felt as though stones had been dropped into her stomach. 

Her father strode to the group, eyebrows furrowed in concern, and stopped right next to her. Her heart pounded in her chest so hard she was sure it would somehow give her away and she once again found herself frozen in a feeble attempt to remain unnoticed.

The other dwarrow straightened up in the presence of Captain Valdi.

“Just makin' sure Master Yürd doesn't deplete yer troops, sir.” the hatted dwarf answered. 

A pronounced frown formed on their Captain's face, “He threatened one of you?”

Rúna took the opportunity to pull the hood of her cloak over her head and face while her father was intent on the other dwarrow, pretending to be affected by a cold, non-existent breeze.

“Yes, sir” Grínn piped up, “Arni here only bumped into him on accident, the way Yürd reacted was out of line!”

Valdi took in Grínn for a moment before turning to stare at her. She sent a silent prayer to Mahal that her face was covered enough for him not to notice his own child's features, then another asking that he'd strike Grínn down for bringing attention to her.

“Is that true, lad?” Valdi asked her. His tone was gruff and solemn, she had grown accustomed to hearing it ever since they left Erebor. She shifted to face him by a hair and gave him the briefest of eye contact when she answered in her deepest voice, “It's true, sir. But Yürd won't bother me anymore, they made sure of it.”

She pointed at the three dwarrow, the better to get his attention on anyone but herself. His gaze lingered a moment longer on her before dragging to the trio. “And how did you 'make sure of it'?”

The two dwarves looked back to Bombur, still seated by the fire, who cleared his throat before explaining, “Well I-er-make these apples ya see,” holding one out in front of Valdi who eyed it with curiosity, “Call 'em 'Bonfire Apples'. It's just a regular apple without a core, but I put some nuts, sugar, and butter inside and let 'em sit over a fire for a bit. They taste mighty fine, if I say so myself.”

Valdi cocked his head at the small fruit, no doubt baffled at it's ability to unarm one of the most powerful dwarves in his troop. “May I?” he asked, reaching out a hand.

The same pout Bombur had given before flashed across the his face a moment before he gave it to Valdi, though it looked like it pained him to do so.

After taking a sniff and seeming satisfied, Valdi took a bite. His reaction to the treat was no different from Yürd's, a satisfied groan escaped his lips and a smile grace his features.

“Next time I choose a cook for an army, I'll be sure to look for you, lad. This is excellent!” the booming quality returning to his voice, “Old Uno does great under the pressures of traveling, but he leaves a lot to be desired.”

Rúna chanced a glance back at the cook who seemed quite unperturbed, perhaps his hearing was bad.

“Uno!” her father called to the cook, “Ready for your retirement? I've got the perfect replacement for you!” He clapped a hand on the back of a red-faced Bombur.

Without looking up the cook grumbled, “He can take over whenever he wants.”

Rúna couldn't help but stare as Valdi laughed in response, bidding the rest of the group a good evening. She hadn't seen or heard him act like this in a long time. He was nowhere near as jovial as he'd been when he roamed Erebor's halls but it was close enough to evoke all the memories she had from those days of the past. She wondered if he was happier because he'd be reunited with his old friend, Prince Thráin, in the coming weeks or if he could see himself reliving those precious days in the Halls of Khazad-dûm.

Before leaving, Valdi put a hand on Rúna's shoulder, leaning by her ear, “You can go back for another helping, lad. I won't have you getting in a fix like Yürd.” and walked off, chuckling at his own joke.

“Did Yürd do some damage to yer nerves, laddie? Yeh still look as though yer starin' down a warg.” 

She wouldn't be all that surprised if this is what that felt like. That entire mess with Yürd was nerve-wrecking and it didn't help to have her father come so close to discovering her. Twice.

“I'll be fine once I've sat down for a meal. You really saved my skin just now, I'm in your debt.”

“Not at all,” the black haired dwarf insisted, “We need to look out for each other out here in the wilds, and if that means from each other than so be it.”

“Aye, wasn't any trouble, lad.” the hatted dwarf agreed. 

“All the same, my name is Arni, son of Darbi, and I'm at your service.” she greeted with a slight bow.

“And I'm Grínn, son of Brúin, at your service.” Grínn added, echoing her bowing gesture. 

The trio of dwarves smiled at the introductions. “Well met! I'm Bofur, son of Brunar, at your service. This is my brother, Bombur.” he gestured to the rotund dwarf.

“At your service!” Bombur greeted, bowing his head. 

“I'm Bifur, son of Burar, cousin to these two rockheads.” He said, giving them a stern look that was too playful to be serious. “At your service, my new friends.”

“Well don't just stand there, come have a seat by the fire.” said Bofur, “I've been needin' new entertainment. These two have become quite borin', Mahal bless them.” 

She looked surprised at Grínn who gave her a wide smile, “Shall we?”

He made himself comfortable on the same log as Bombur, eyes darting to his pan, no doubt looking for more of the famed 'Bonfire Apples'.

“You too Arni!” Bofur patted a spot next to him, his grin almost blinding. 

Rúna couldn't help but smile in return, breathing a sigh of relief at the fortunate turn of events this night had taken.

“Let me get more stew and I'll join you.”

“Alright, I'll save you yer spot.” he said with a wink. 

The elation of not getting pummeled by Yürd, passing as a stranger to her own father, and possibly making new friends practically made Rúna skip to the end of the line. Right behind her brother.

He gave her a hard glance before facing forward at attention. In an instant she felt like she was a dwarfling again and he'd caught her doing something mischievous. She shuffled her feet and stared at them, her hunger starting to dwindle.

“Since when did you learn male braiding styles?” he inquired in a low whisper.

Her head shot up only to meet the back of his head. He still faced forward, to keep up appearances, she supposed.

“I didn't. Grínn braided it for me.” she whispered back.

Now he turned, in fact his head spun around to face her. Coupled with his alarmed expression she thought he bore a remarkable resemblance to an owl.

“He braided it himself? In that wagon?” he rumbled, his alarm beginning to change into rage.

It took a confused moment before Rúna realized what he thought she implied.

“No! No it wasn't anything like that.” she hissed, “I'm rubbish with male braids, you know that! We agreed it was the only way for me to look authentic so he braided my hair himself. There was nothing more to it, I promise.”

Benrin still looked unconvinced, she noticed his hand was once again on his trusted sword. She sighed, exasperated.

“You told him yourself to help me look the part, did you not? Besides, it's not like you would've done it.”

He mumbled something to himself as he faced forward once again.

“What was that?” she asked. Her hands itched to go to her hips like they always did whenever she became indignant but that would only reveal her feminine figure. She wouldn't get caught on top of all the other nonsense she'd had to endure this night. 

“I said 'I would've done it'.” he responded. 

Everything from her expression to her posture softened.

“Oh.” was all she could say. 

The siblings were quiet for a few moments. Benrin was the one to break it.

“Adad and I aren't the only ones that need protecting in this family, you know. We didn't leave you behind because we didn't care about you or thought you useless. The Greys were the safest place to leave you.”

“And if you left me forever?” she asked, her words sounding heavy.

He sighed. “Do you think we'd prefer to leave you in the Greys or alone on a battlefield?”

“Do you think I'd want to be stuck wondering if I could've changed anything? Would I want the weight of being the last of my kin on my shoulders the rest of my days?”

Much to her surprise, she heard him chuckle. He shifted on his feet to take her in, a smile on his face.

“Stubborn to the end.” he stated.

But she could see his fear, the fear that her stubbornness would be the cause of her demise on the battlefield. Their was sadness at the edges of his smile and worry mixed with the mirth in his eyes. It occurred to her that he would fight just as hard for her as she would for him. Benrin and her father had suffered the same losses, felt the need to protect what little they had left and what they had left was her.

Rúna gave him the warmest smile she could. “Stubborn until I'm old and grey, brother.” she corrected.

The sadness and worry lifted from his expression. It was his turn for stew, afterwards he raised his bowl to her, “Aye, I'll eat and drink to that.”

After receiving her new meal she watched Benrin walk to his fire (staying still this time to avoid any collisions). She felt lighter than she had in weeks. Anytime her thoughts drifted to Benrin she'd get caught in a sea of second guesses and a giant dose of guilt, but now he didn't seem mad at her as she had believed on that fateful night when he caught her. He may not have forgotten her threat, but they were still brother and sister. Nothing could ever change that.

That thought comforted her as she saw him laugh and dine with his friends. She recognized Bódon next to him, he had the same chestnut brown hair and hawk-like nose he'd had since they were all dwarflings. He'd grown to be a fearsome warrior, from what she'd heard, but was still easily distracted when not training or fighting Orcs and Goblins.

And then his gaze was upon her, he must have felt her stare. Rúna gave him a tentative smile, hoping beyond hope that he didn't recognize her. If his scowl was any indication, he most certainly did.

 

 

 

Namad=Sister

Nadad=Brother


	3. The Road to Ruin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In true Hobbit fashion, I give you all this new chapter on my birthday. Hope you all enjoy it!
> 
> Be warned, this chapter will contain many violent images. I've edited Chapter 2 to give Rúna more of the character I felt she was lacking. I've changed nothing related to the plot, though.
> 
> The world of Middle Earth and popular characters within belong to Professor Tolkien, everything added belongs to me.

“This one's a lost cause, brother.” said Bofur, handing Bombur the bowl of 'stew' as if it were filled with all the waste in Arda.

“You have no taste is all. You'd eat yer own hat thinking it was the finest dwarrow cooking.” Bombur retorted.

“I'd do no such thing!” Bofur scoffed and Rúna could have sworn he looked offended at the accusation.

“I-it's not so bad.” Grínn said, trying to appease, “Add some salt, maybe take out the dandelions.” She noted that while Grínn held the bowl and spoon in hand, the 'stew' never went anywhere near his mouth.

Bombur deflated somewhat, “Who am I kidding?” and poured the remains of his own bowl into their fire.

Days had passed since their caravan had left the vast plains to enter yet another stretch of woods. The road had become harsher with narrower paths and rockier ground but the dwarrow preferred it to being vulnerable out in the open.

Nights also presented a challenge as campfires needed to be smaller, which always made supper a nervous affair for Rúna. Being closer to other dwarves meant a better view of her figure, mannerisms, and features. That coupled with not having a good view of the stars at night made her the only dwarf to miss their trek across the expansive rolling hills.

Thank Mahal for the friends she and Grínn had made in the 'Ur Clan', as the two would call them. They had become frequent dining companions and were more welcoming than Rúna could have ever hoped.

“Alright you louts, pay up!” Bifur piped up, hand outstretched in expectation.

Grumbling and groaning the rest of the group, except Bombur, took several coins from their person and gave it to the smug toymaker.

The rotund dwarf gave Bifur an indignant look, “Of all the things, ya bet on my cookin'?”

“I don't doubt your ability, dear cousin,” Bifur assured, depositing the coins in his satchel, “But I don't care if you're the best cook in all of Dwarrow-kind; dandelion, pickle, and mushroom can never be combined. Ever.”

The other dwarrow around the fire nodded in affirmation, taking swigs of water to wash away the taste of the failed experiment.

“Well, I s'pose we'll have to come up with a new bet then.” suggested Bofur, his ever present smirk brightening.

“Another bet? I've been drained dry this week!” Grínn complained.

Bofur shrugged, “Best learn how to bet better then.”

“Well, when I hit a gold vein I'll be sure to hone my skills. But I'm out of all the bets made the rest of this journey.” Grínn vowed, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Suit yourself.” Bofur replied, “But I've got another bet that may interest the rest of yeh.”

Grínn let out an exasperated sigh as Rúna prodded, “Well, go on and tell us then! Someone's got to get some coin out of Bifur for once.”

She gave the dwarf sitting across from her a challenging smile, which was returned.

“I'll bet yeh five gold pieces that the Captain's son is sweet on Bódon of the Greys.” he said, voice low enough for only their group to understand.

Rúna's expression tightened and Grínn gave her a sidelong glance.

“Ach, yer imagining things, brother.” Bombur dismissed with a wave of his hand.

Bofur shook his head with a knowing, wistful smile, “The romantic in me can see a pair of lovers a mile away. All those longin' looks from afar, the way Sir Benrin's voice goes soft when givin' the bloke orders, it's quite lovely.”

He was right of course, and she cursed herself for not realizing that the dwarf could notice subtle clues just as well as she could. Bofur, as well as his brother and cousin, had become good friends over the past weeks and he'd often keep her company when the road became too boring. She in turn took as many opportunities as she could to wander with Bofur to the front of the procession to check in on her big brother, despite the scathing looks from Bódon that she'd feel on the back of her head. These occasions, no doubt, lead to Bofur's correct assumption.

Bifur stroked the chin under his beard, pondering, “Hmm, I think for once I agree with you. Ten pieces says that they are lovers.”

 _Oh hang that dwarf for being so intuitive! And for taking all of our blasted money!_  Rúna thought, unaware of the glare she was giving him.

“I'll bet fifteen that they're not!” said Bombur with defiance.

“C'mon Bombur, of all the dwarrow in our circle I'd have thought ye would recognize love when yeh saw it. After all, yeh've got Lady Janna waitin' for yer return back home.” Bofur teased.

Bombur's face reddened, “She's only a close friend. I'm not courtin' her.”

“Yet.” amended Bofur.

“So, Arni, what say you on Bofur's wager?” Bifur asked her.

“Nothing.” she snapped, an instant after the words left his mouth.

Bifur hesitated a moment before suggesting, “Losing too much money too, are you?”

“No. I will not partake in such a wager.”

His cousin and brother gave Bofur a bemused glance. “Have I offended ya, laddie?”

Rúna saw the alarmed look on everyone's faces and tried to keep herself calm as she explained.

“You can't be talking about those things here. Not with so many soldiers from the Greys walking about. Anyone could hear you blabbering about things that aren't your business.”

“What's the harm in them knowin'?” Bombur asked for his brother.

“It's not right to them. You love your craft or you love your wife and your craft. Not your brother-at-arms, not in that way.”

“Well that's ridiculous, if a dwarf wants to love another dwarf who's to stop him?” cried Bofur.

“They will.” she answered, with bluntness. “Both of them could be sent home if enough of the soldiers around here knew. Or one would go home while the other remains to be shamed and ridiculed by his own dwarrow. Would you lot want to be responsible for that?”

Silence reigned for many moments and Rúna bit the inside of her cheek to keep from venting more. It was all in good fun, she knew that, but she had done enough to throw Benrin's plans off course and she wouldn't be the cause of it going off the rails. If it meant being harsh to her new friends, then so be it.

Choosing to stare into the fire, she missed the sheepish looks exchanged between the members of the Ur clan. Grínn stared at a stick he was stripping of bark, afraid one worried look from himself would make them more suspicious than they already were. Much to his and Rúna's surprise, the conversation took a very different turn.

“Bifur, I'll bet you five coin that Valdi kills over fifty orcs at the battle.” Bofur wagered, the cheery tone coming back into his voice.

“Fifty?” Bifur snorted, “That's far too low a number, cousin. I've heard the tales of what happened during the Goblin Wars in the Misty Mountains. They say he cut down enemies with his axe like he was harvesting wheat with a scythe.”

“I heard he fought alongside Prince Thráin, quite an honor I'd imagine.” said Bombur.

“Indeed.” Rúna agreed in a small voice. “He rose in the ranks after seeing his superiors fall one by one, in the last days of battle he saw the Prince surrounded by the filth and came to his aid. The goblins he hadn't slain ran away with the fear of Mahal in them.” She smiled as the story came to her with ease. After years of listening to her father tell the tale such was expected. “And so they continued, Thráin with his sword and Valdi with his axe, destroying the enemy ranks until what was left of the creatures scurried back into the mountains like roaches. The Prince and Captain travelled back to Erebor as blood brothers and Thráin ensured Valdi was made a nobleman of high rank.”

Rúna paused, as the story would take a dark turn at the Sacking of Erebor but it also made her aware of the surprise on all the dwarrow's faces. Grínn even gave her quite a pointed look that said 'Shut your gob!'

“At least that's what I've heard, from all the rumors going about the caravan.” she added.

She breathed a relieved sigh when it looked like the dwarrow were more enraptured by her story rather than how she came to know it.

“Bofur,” Bifur said, cutting through the silence, “I'll raise the stakes on that bet. Fifty coin says Captain Valdi will kill well over a hundred orcs!”

Before Bofur could reply, Rúna cut in, “One hundred coin says he'll kill the most of any dwarf in the King's Army.”

Bifur regarded her for a moment, until a large grin spread across his face. “You're on, lad.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Their route snaked into a valley after another weeks journey and now appeared to be somewhere in a small, dried up canyon. Two high walls of stone sat on either side of the traveling dwarrow, thick roots poked out here and there to prove that the green clusters peeking out above them were indeed trees. The way was rockier than ever but had widened a great deal, giving them just enough room to avoid any obstacles.

Grínn guided the wagon as usual, with more grace than one would ever expect. Any conversation had hit a lull but the silence that came with it was a companionable one. Months of traveling together had exhausted most, if not all, possible topics to speak about so she supplemented by letting her mind wander.

With the overcast, dark grey sky refusing to make way for proper light, she could just make out her brother's figure in the distance towards the very front of the caravan, sitting astride a chestnut pony sauntering down the way. She let herself become swept up in memories of when he had first taught her to ride.

To say Rúna was insistent on the lessons would be the understatement of the age. Her love of everything equine when she was young couldn't be rivaled despite her brothers all telling her how dangerous it was. So one day Benrin, grudgingly, took her to a field near a settlement of men with a chestnut pony being lead at his side.

She figured out rather quick that the pony was as thrilled at the prospect of her riding as her brother. The beast would move whenever she tried to mount him, make fast hairpin turns to make her fall off, or stand stone still when she urged it onward. It's obstinate tactics knew no bounds.

After a day of hair-pulling frustration she found her love of the animal had lowered a great deal and Benrin suggested that she abandon the lessons. But everyday they returned to that field, Rúna would ride that pony if it was the last thing she did.

The day she accomplished that goal would be forever ingrained in her mind, after a week of struggle the pony finally began to respond to her kicks and commands. A huge grin had grown on her face as it began to trot at a good pace. Her hair blew behind her and she couldn't help the excited giggles that bubbled from her at the exhilaration of finally being a proper rider. She would never forget Benrin's reaction either. He had been beside himself with astonishment, staring slack-jawed as she rode in circles around him.

She'd find out later that Benrin had picked the most difficult pony in the stables for the very purpose of deterring her from learning to ride. When she confronted him he assured it was only to keep her from getting hurt, which didn't make her appreciative.

Her training with the sword went much the same way, he was a strict and unforgiving teacher and ended each session with a plea for her to stick with the defensive techniques saved for Dams, but she persisted. After years of sparring she started to meet the near unfair expectations he had set for his pupil until one day she struck the sword from his hand and had hers pointed to his throat, her lips forming into a smirk as she realized her victory. She received her sword 'Carver' not long after on her birthday as a present from him, to be kept secret from Valdi of course.

He had been proven wrong about what his little sister could and couldn't do many times. He'd always claim it was because of her stubborn nature, but she knew of another reason that he did not.

“Do you think Khazad-dûm will be like Erebor?”

Rúna started at her friends out-of-the-blue question. His gaze was unfocused when she regarded him, just as lost in thought as she had been a moment ago.

“I wouldn't know, Adad told us stories of it when I was young but I don't remember much.” she answered.

“It is another dwarrow kingdom like Erebor, just a different place. I'd imagine it would be about the same.” he thought out loud, trying to piece a picture of it together in his mind.

She leaned back against the wall of the wagon, “Yes, it will probably be similar,” she sighed, “I doubt the stone will be the same, though. Erebor was filled with malachite, gold, silver...but I bet Moria's halls will be grand in their own way. I do recall father saying something about a vast courtyard with pillars spread across like trees in a-”

A fowl screech pierced the air around them and their ponies reared up and whinnied with fright. Grínn pulled the reins hard to gain back control while Rúna grasped the bench to keep from being hurled to the ground. Her heart sped up when she heard a bunch of garbled shouts that amounted to one fact: goblins were attacking.

This far from the mountains? Was all she could think before one of the creatures dropped in front of her, landing backwards on one of their ponies. It looked up at the surprised dwarves and leered with stained and crooked teeth.

It brandished a large bone that had been sharpened into a knife and lunged at Rúna. Adrenaline alone made her kick out a foot to meet the goblins face, it fell to the ground before getting trampled by the now hysterical ponies.

“Cut them off!” shouted Grínn as he sawed at the ponies' straps with a pocketknife. Rúna joined his endeavor on the other pony using her own knife, always kept hidden in her boot.

She could hear the chaos erupting around her, the clashing of swords, the cries of dwarf and goblin mingled together.

Of course my first battle is an ambush! And with goblins, no less. She thought.

Grínn was the first to cut his pony free, while hers flailed about almost kicking her temple several times.

“Look out!” She saw movement out of the corner of her eye behind her and ducked just in time for Grínn to throw his knife into the chest of another goblin that was posed to strike. A few strokes more and her pony was loose, it took off after its partner, taking out several more goblins as they ran away. Now able to see down the road she could get a good look at what they were up against.

A trickle of goblins climbed down the stone walls before disappearing into the fray, which meant no more were coming. Good. The way her kind were fighting they'd have a good chance of coming out on top. A small army of goblins couldn't overrun an entire caravan of battle-ready dwarrow.

She reached beneath the bench and drew out Carver, letting its sheath and blanket fall to the ground, unheeded. After jumping to the ground, she found Grínn pulling out his pocketknife from the goblin corpse, “Tell me that's not all you have!” she groaned, before yanking Grínn behind her and stabbing a goblin that had run at them.

“I didn't think we'd be fighting on the road!” he yelled back.

Just then, several goblins noticed the pair and came forward with their crude weapons drawn. Far too many for her to spar with. “Under the wagon!” she ordered, pushing Grínn into the gap. She rolled underneath to join him and felt a swish of air as a goblin with a scythe tried to slice her.

“Now what?” Grínn snarled. In truth, Rúna wasn't sure.

“Can't hide forever, dwarves.” one of the goblins hissed. Their pungent smell, like excrement and meat that had been left in the sun, assaulted her nose. She shifted closer to Grínn and caught sight of the goblin she had kicked earlier within arms reach. It's body was contorted and mangled from the ponies' hooves but it still clutched the large bone knife.

Rúna snatched it and held it before Grínn as they both laid on their backs, “Use this.”

Grínn grasped it with a grimace, “I don't know if I-”

“A weapon is a weapon Grínn, now use it!” she pleaded before using Carver to cut down the leg of a goblin that got too close to the wagon.

She stabbed it's side and sliced down, unleashing a torrent of black blood, bile and innards. Grínn made a gagging sound before swinging his bone knife at the goblins on his side, but they backed away from his reach before one of them kicked the knife from his hand. It crouched down to snarl at him, revealing a face covered in pustules with one eye much larger than the other, almost bulging from it's socket.

Grínn recoiled in surprise, slamming his back into Rúna's causing her to miss another goblin who retaliated by stepping on her sword. She tried to pull it out from under its' foot with no luck, behind her Grínn watched in horror as the goblin began to crawl under the wagon, it's gnarled hand reaching to grab his face.

The goblin screeched as it was dragged back out from under the wagon, on Rúna's side black blood suddenly covered her hand as the goblin standing on Carver fell lifeless to the ground. Dwarrow boots came into view and Rúna peeked out from under the wagon just as a hand with fingerless gloves reached down to help her up.

“Looked like yeh needed a hand.” said Bofur with a sly smirk. Leave it to him to make terrible puns at a time like this.

Bombur and Bifur came to their side of the wagon, sandwiching a frazzled looking Grínn who held the bone knife like a lifeline.

“You really saved our arses!” Rúna called over the cacophony of fighting.

“Think nothing of it, lad!” Bifur responded, waving her off with the hand that wasn't holding a blood-stained longsword.

A deafening roar echoed through the valley, bringing all eyes to the tops of the natural stone walls. On either side loomed two trolls, at least that's what Rúna thought they were, she'd never seen one before in her life. They were the size of trees even with their backs hunched over, their heads looked to be a bit too small for their bodies even with horns growing from their foreheads like pincers. Grossly huge muscles bulged from underneath their dirt brown hides, the membranes were easy to see as they shifted with the movement of the giant beasts. They wore no adornments except for stained loincloths around their wide waists.

“Durin's bollocks.” swore Grínn.

The sight of trolls strolling about in the daytime would have shocked anyone, but when Rúna noticed a large goblin sitting astride each troll she was beside herself. They held chains in their hands that attached to a ring which had been pierced through each trolls' flat nose and, after a shrill war cry, they dropped down into the valley.

The shockwave from their jump snapped the dwarrow from their stupor and they all ran at the newcomers with weapons raised. Dwarrow were never a race to back away from a battle the likes of this one, but a fighting spirit could only get them so far. The troll's hide was thick and though many an axe had struck against them it hardly deterred the lumbering beasts from creating more havoc. One swoop of their arm sent dwarrow troops flying into the walls, one hand could grasp a dozen dwarrow and crush the life out of them or stuff them all into it's mouth for a snack.

Rúna ran towards the trolls, but not to fight, only find. Knowing her father and brother, they would put themselves at the front lines and though the trolls were intimidating to say the least, she'd be hanged if she didn't fight at their sides.

After many panic-filled moments she caught sight of her brother who was, sure enough, contending with one of the trolls with Bódon and a group of soldiers. She ran after him without thought.

“Arni, where are you going?” Bifur called out, running to catch up with her.

“They need our help!” she yelled over her shoulder, pointing at her destination.

Her friends all followed her to Benrin's side where she announced herself by jumping into the air and stabbing the only thing within her reach, the troll's toe. The monster howled in pain and tried to kick her off but Carver was firmly wedged in the digit and she gripped it tight despite being jostled to and fro like a ragdoll.

With one particularly hard flick, Rúna and Carver came dislodged and flew right into Benrin's torso, knocking the wind out of them. He was the first to rise, gathering his bearings by bending forward with his hands on his knees.

“What in Durin's name was that? Do you have a death wish?” he shouted, between breaths. She thought about answering when she noticed a giant foot bearing down on them.

“Get back!” she shouted. In seconds Benrin glanced up and took a giant leap backwards just as Rúna rolled out of the way. The ground shook as the foot stomped down, missing the moving targets.

The other dwarrow tried to have a go at the troll while her brother ran to her side, followed by a glowering Bódon. “Never do anything that foolish again!” Benrin growled.

“What? I did something, didn't I?” she pointed out.

“Endangering the lives of capable soldiers? Yeah, I'd say you did that.” Bódon snarled.

It looked as though Benrin wanted to say something before his brow furrowed, he looked from his sister to the troll and back. He turned and ran back to the dwarrow who were failing to bring down their opponent.

“Stab it's toes!” shouted Benrin, “We can bring them down by the feet!”

With a grin, Rúna passed Bódon to join her comrades only to be forced back. The troll had had enough of it's feet being stabbed and got back at the dwarrow by kicking them away. Rúna barely dove out of the way as the troll charged forward and past her, but she was quick to rise and made a mad dash at the troll. It was coming far too close to her friends and brother.

Once she was close enough, she jabbed Carver with all of her might into the troll's heel. The effect was immediate. The troll yowled like a wounded animal and went down on one knee to take pressure from the foot Rúna had attacked.

A cry of anger came from above and Rúna spotted the goblin that had been riding the troll's back climb down from it's perch and jump right at her. She blocked it with a blow from Carver that met with it's own rusted sword, the force of the blow made her fall onto her back and the goblin to fall to the side. Like a feral cat it got back to it's feet and rushed her again, meeting Carver with a resounding 'clang'! The goblin was fast but careless with it's swings, it took little time for her to see an opening and cut into its belly.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see a beaming Benrin and behind him the corpse of the troll surrounded by her friends. “Good work.” he congratulated before addressing every dwarrow within hearing range. “Go for the heels!”

Every nearby dwarf repeated his statement, running to the remaining three trolls with fire in their eyes. Benrin, however stayed at his sister's side, “Think you could take down another for us?” he jested, giving her a grin she hadn't seen in a long time.

“Must I do all the work for you?” she countered, clapping his shoulder before running to join their comrades.

Together, with the Ur clan and Grínn (who had just gotten his bearings), they helped kill the dwindling number of goblins and bring down the trolls until their was only one left standing.

Bódon was the one to cut at its heel, but before it could be severed the thing turned, knocking Bódon over and, being close to the wall, backed up until it crushed the goblin on it's back. Without its master, the nature of the beast changed, it fell forward with its knuckles to the ground and roared at their faces. It began striking their troops without abandon, like they were bugs to be squashed.

As if they were of one mind, Rúna and Benrin headed behind the troll to finish off its heel. Benrin got there first and struck the blow, forcing the troll to one knee like the others.

He took a few steps back and wiped the sweat from his brow before looking back at Rúna with a tired but accomplished look on his face. She laughed out of pure exhaustion, and made to join his side when a giant object slammed down in front her, knocking her back several feet.

A ringing in her ears was all she could hear as she peeled herself from the ground. Her eyes began to focus, letting her see the crater where her brother had been standing. Her eyes drifted down and bile rose in her stomach, all thought fled except one devastating truth, and she couldn't move. She couldn't look away.

The rest of the battlefield caught her attention, seeing carnage she hadn't noticed before. Too many dwarrow lay amongst the goblin corpses. Spots on the canyon walls were stained with blood both red and black, the stench of death hit her like a smithing hammer. The ringing faded in time for her to hear a cry of rage, a familiar one. Rúna's head came up to see the troll looming over her, it growled low as its hand reached down to seal her fate.

Valdi rushed into sight and with a mighty swing of his axe sliced one of the fingers from the troll's hand. The blood spurted onto Rúna's face and her senses returned in full, she could feel the heat of it and noticed its vile smell. She heaved the bile in her belly on the ground, not aware of the numerous blows Valdi was making to the beast that had just killed his eldest son. Rúna strained to lift herself, everything felt heavy, and saw her father swiping at every part of the troll without mercy. She had never seen him so enraged or move so fast, every movement was of pure wrath and sorrow, which meant he could be felled if he made the smallest of mistakes. Just one trip over a rock jutting from the ground, one strike that didn't land properly. She needed to help him.

She was able to get to one knee and propel herself from the ground and though she was now standing, her stance wobbled without equilibrium. She saw Carver lying a foot from her, stumbling forward she grabbed it, turned and made to run to her father's side. Time seemed to slow as the troll moved to avoid one of Valdi's blows and her fear came to pass. The missed swing of his axe set Valdi off balance, giving the troll the opportunity to grab him around the middle.

“Adad!” she screamed. The sound of breaking bones and shouts of pain cut through the air as the troll squeezed the Captain with all of its might. The next moment Valdi was thrown into the wall behind Rúna where he collapsed to the ground in a heap.

It let out another ear shattering roar. Rúna stood rooted to the stone beneath her feet, unaware of Grínn shouting her real name for all dwarrow to hear, begging her to get away from the troll that was far too close.

The monster was trying to climb back up the stone wall from where it had come. Escaping with the use of only one hand and one leg, away from the dwarrow who could easily destroy it like they did it's brethren. Any pain in her legs was forgotten as she charged.

The blood in her veins boiled, her blue eyes blazed like the hottest of flames as she ran at her giant opponent, avoiding every rock and pitfall along the way. She jumped onto the troll's back, grabbing the loincloth for leverage upwards, and climbed to what was left of the saddle of its goblin master. It noticed her swift ascent, but far too late. She planted her feet on the saddle's horn and, with a mighty battle cry, swung her blade into the side of it's neck where it buried at least two hands deep in flesh.

The troll roared again but the sound was far weaker than before. Again she swung Carver, feeling it collide with the bone. Then, with one last strike, the spine broke and the troll fell like a tree cut down in the forest. She jumped over the shoulder to its front before it dropped to the ground, dead.

An eerie silence fell as dust settled to the ground. Rúna stared at the giant beneath her then swung Carver again and again and again. Its head tumbled to the side resting amongst the debris of a wagon that had been destroyed in the mayhem. Her form shook with a mixture of fury and fatigue.

A hand rested on her shoulder and she looked up to take in her friends, who were all battered and bruised but not badly hurt. Bombur had a nasty scrape on his chin, Bofur looked ragged and was frowning (the first time she'd ever seen him do so), and Bifur had blood in his beard and hair.

He was the first to break the silence with a quiet, “Lass?”

It took her a moment to take in the change of title, her hand wandered up and felt the braid on the right side of her face hanging loose, away from her sideburns. Further on she could feel her fishtail braids had come completely undone letting her locks blow gently in a humid breeze. The owner of the hand on her shoulder was Grínn, “The name slipped out.” was all he could manage, she noted that he was favoring his left leg. Her own hand laid on top of his, a silent gesture that she understood.

Soft sounds of commotion came from behind. She spun around and dashed to the gathering crowd, pushing her way through the throng, when she broke through and beheld two soldiers kneeling beside her father's crumpled but living form.

“Adad?” she called out, coming to his side.

Whispers arose from the group, but she paid them no mind and gently tilted Valdi's head to face her. His eyes focused on her and widened a fraction, “Rúna?” he breathed.

“Yes it's me, I'm here.” 

He stared at her looking confused and weary. “I-I stowed away in the caravans.” she explained, “You're probably angry with me, but I couldn't let you and Benrin-” she nearly choked on the name but pressed on, “-go to battle alone. Not without someone to watch over you.”

“I know.” he rasped.

She peered down at him, “What? What do you mean?”

He let out a deep breath, grimacing with great pain. “The day after we left the Grey Mountains I saw a shadow leave the camp and run to a cluster of trees. I followed it and there I found you.”

Now Rúna was the confused one, being struck dumb her father continued. “I had half a mind to drag you back to the Greys, but you were practicing.” his eyes became lost in memory, “You move like a true soldier, with precision and grace most of my dwarrow could never hope to have. Who taught you to fight like that?”

“Hornin and Benrin.” she murmured.

He gave a small nod of his head, “Of course. They did well. You've proven your worth ten times over.”

A low rumble of thunder preceded the question that she had to ask, “Why didn't you send me back?”

Valdi took all of her in, every scratch on her face, every loose hair and he smiled. “You know, you have your mother's eyes.” he stated with a rasp.

Worried that he was becoming delirious, Rúna got close enough that she was practically cradling him, “She had hazel eyes, Adad. I got mine from you, remember?”

“Not the color.” he amended, “The light, the passion. I missed it.”

The crowd around them began to disperse, sensing the personal turn of their words, leaving only a couple of soldiers and Rúna's friends to watch over the two.

Tears began to fill Valdi's eyes as he continued, “Of all the things I was so desperate to see again, it was that look...whenever she crafted or when you lot filled her arms, laughing and giggling.”

Raindrops began to drip from the sky but Rúna did not notice, she hung on his every word.

“That light in her eyes meant she was truly happy.” he remembered with a wet sigh, “When I saw light in yours, after all the years of wandering and...I couldn't bring you back. There would be danger, but you couldn't be caged in those mountains, what if the light went out and never came back...I still want you to fight.”

He paused in his words and his smile became quite sad, “I hope it stays with you, that light, when I'm gone.”

“You're not going anywhere.” she insisted, “You can pull through this, Adad. You've done it before, right?”

The words left a bitter taste in her mouth and she felt the urge to be sick again come and go. His broken hand lifted to touch her cheek, his thumb brushed a tear she didn't even realize had been shed.

“Such a fire you have, mizim.” he whispered for only her to hear, “You've made us all proud and always will, this I know.”

His hand drifted down into her lap and his eyes glazed over, staring lifeless at the darkening sky above.

The clouds opened and rain began to fall with full force, releasing what it had been holding back for more than a weeks time.

She took hold of her father's cooling hand in her lap, “Please, don't leave. Don't leave me!” she pleaded.

“He's gone, m'lady.” the soldier at his other side mumbled.

“But he can't be.” she whispered. Her eyes stayed steady on the Captains' body, as if expecting something from the shell. The soldier made to stand up, giving the Urs and Grínn a small shake of the head and, with his partner, trudged to the rest of the company. Most likely to give them the news that their leader had passed.

She couldn't have failed. Not after everything.

“Rúna?” she heard Grínn start to approach her, but his off kilter steps stopped. She didn't see why. Bofur grabbed Grínn's arm as he passed him to come to his friends' side, sensing her need for space. They stood like sentinels behind her, not bothering to take shelter as the trickle of rain turned to a downpour.

Her shock started to pass and the truth bared down on her like the torrential rain. She was alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regarding the trolls, if you read Tolkien's works there are many different kinds of trolls that have varying abilities that I took inspiration from. I also took some inspiration from early illustrations done by John Howe on the look of the ones encountered in this chapter. 
> 
> More will be explained and explored on the goblin ambush as we press on.


End file.
